Page 8 of Coming Home to Maverick

She sucked in her breath, but he didn’t turn around. They were walking single file, and he needed to watch his feet placement carefully.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

They continued down the path, and now he was plagued with curiosity, with compassion, and, yes, with anger. But it was so much more complicated than the righteous anger he’d felt.

And she was still silent. He shouldn’t even be surprised.

They finally reached the flat pastureland of her family’s property.

“I can make it fine from here. You can get back to the ranch.”

“Nah, I’ll come in and say hello to your parents.”

She groaned, and he couldn’t understand her problem.

He whirled around to face her. “What? You don’t want me around?”

She stepped back, startled. Her expression was guarded, worried. “No, it’s not that. I…” She waved her hand in the air. “It’s nothing. Come on in. My parents would be thrilled to see you.”

He shook his head. This was too much. He kicked at a rock. “You know, you owe me some answers.”

She waited half the length of the pasture to respond, but then her quiet “I know” warmed him. With relief, he realized she wasn’t going to leave him in the dark forever.

As soon as they made it to the back porch, a little girl slammed open the back door. She tore across the grass toward Bailey, who swung her into her arms and kissed her cheek. “How’s my sweet pea?”

Maverick couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d come out of his own house.

“So good! Grandma taught me how to make cookies and her special bread.”

“What!Idon’t even know how to make her super-secret, special bread.”

“You don’t?” Her awe made Maverick chuckle. She turned to him, her blue eyes blazing. “Who are you?”

“Gracie. Manners, remember?”

“Oh, sorry.” She held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Gracie Faith.”

He laughed out loud at that and shook her hand. “Well, Gracie Faith, I’m Maverick Dawson. Pleased to meet such a pretty little kitchen helper.”

“I help with the horses too.” She wiggled out of Bailey’s arms and went running back up onto the porch and into the house. “Grandpa! Mama’s brought home a Maverick.”

Maverick whipped his head around. “Mama?” His heart about stuttered to a stop.

Her eyes widened, and she searched his face before turning toward the barn. “Let’s put the horses away and wrap this one’s ankle.”

He wasn’t sure how, but he managed to put one foot in front of the other all the way to the barn. Bailey had a daughter? How was that possible? “How old is she?”

Bailey shook her head. “Let’s talk about it inside.”

Mr. Hempstead called from the porch behind them, “Good to see you, Maverick.”

He turned. “You too, Mr. Hempstead.”

“Is Chester limping?”

Bailey called, “Yeah, it’s a sprain.”

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